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<title>One Less Prayer by Fraudgara</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23357110">One Less Prayer</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fraudgara/pseuds/Fraudgara'>Fraudgara</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Buzzfeed: Worth It (Web Series), Watcher Entertainment RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom!Andrew, M/M, Reunion Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 10:35:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>652</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23357110</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fraudgara/pseuds/Fraudgara</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“But <i>you said</i>--” Andrew rarely raised his voice, and whenever he did, he looked surprised at himself and clammed up. The phone shook; Andrew moved his hand to his hair, pushing it like a shift of very fine sand or silk. </p>
<p>Steven felt the breath rush out of his lungs and catch in his throat when he saw how Andrew wasn’t quite looking at him. Whenever he was, Andrew’s eyes reminded Steven of homemade matcha, whisked and milky green.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Andrew Ilnyckyj/Steven Lim</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>132</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>One Less Prayer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellairestrella/gifts">bellairestrella</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>First official standrew fic and long overdue and all thanks to one <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellairestrella/pseuds/bellairestrel">bellairestrella</a>.<br/>Special thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/quackers/pseuds/quackers">Meph</a> for managing time for me and my demands for a second pair of eyes in this chaotic time.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>When Steven agreed to Watcher, he hadn’t wanted to call Andrew.</p>
<p>But he did. He stood there slouched over his narrow kitchen island in his New York apartment, just <em>explaining </em>it to Andrew’s dour expression filling the frame of his phone screen.</p>
<p>“I just don’t get it,” Andrew replied flatly. It had to be sunny in L.A. because Andrew’s hair was caramel when he pushed it back. “I thought what you wanted was New York.”</p>
<p>That <em>really </em>hurt. It bled out of the subtext of Andrew’s careful nonchalance and into the unspoken reason Steven left. Tore the stitches of Steven’s silent pleading prayers; the failed murder of a feeling he’d kept ressurecting every time he’d seen Andrew’s name in his phone.</p>
<p>“I don’t know what I want,” he said without thinking.</p>
<p>“<em>But you said-</em>-” Andrew rarely raised his voice, and whenever he did, he looked surprised at himself and clammed up. The phone shook; Andrew moved his hand to his hair, pushing it like a shift of very fine sand or silk.</p>
<p>Steven felt the breath rush out of his lungs and catch in his throat when he saw how Andrew <em>wasn’t </em>quite looking at him. Whenever he was, Andrew’s eyes reminded Steven of homemade <em>matcha</em>, whisked and milky green.</p>
<p>“So you’re coming back?” he asked; as if asking if Steven were taking up yoga. Light. It burnt harder than that. Made it harder to breathe.</p>
<p>“Yes,” he said voicelessly, already thinking of what their goodbye felt like. Turgid and empty all at once. A dumbfounded silence had fallen between them same as the day he left. Quietly terrified realisation when Steven had reached out, hovered a touch too far from a shoulder, and <em>too </em>close to Andrew’s chin with a subconscious intent, awakened in Andrew’s responsive shiver.</p>
<p>The right side of Steven’s lip stung from where he’d begun chewing it again.</p>
<p>Andrew sighed. “So you’re coming back for them?” and Steven heard something familiar in that tone; he felt like he’d heard it every time he shut his eyes and it was just his voice alone talking to God. “For <em>those </em>two?”</p>
<p>
  <em>Lord, please.</em>
</p>
<p>“Of course not,” he mumbled. “It wouldn’t be just...<em>for them.</em>”</p>
<p>“What for then?”</p>
<p>
  <em>God, please.</em>
</p>
<p>Steven was overwrought. “You <em>know</em> what for,” he snapped at last “I hate that you’re gonna make me say--.”.</p>
<p>“<em>Steven</em>.” Andrew’s voice cut across like a strangely sharp edit, like he’d clipped himself in, tone low. Andrew was finally looking right at him--dead on; a naked stare that made Steven feel a flush crawl up his neck. “<em>Just get back here</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He shut his brain off when he landed at LAX, and the Uber driver didn’t notice how he stuttered out the address, as if he’d never said it before; as if he could forget.</p>
<p>Andrew’s apartment door was still blue and Steven hurt his hand when he knocked.</p>
<p>Andrew’s fingers closed under his chin and Steven inhaled deep and shut his eyes. He could smell the dinner wine on Andrew’s lips, his mouth. The naked tang of his breath splashed on Steven’s tongue.</p>
<p>“Not just for them, right?” Andrew murmured.</p>
<p>It didn’t hit Steven until later when he made Andrew’s mouth slide open under his the first time he thrusted; pressing the touch of slick differences into Andrew’s bed. His knees scraped against the grains of the blanket under them, and he heard the slide of their skin as Andrew’s palms slid over the sheets, fists curling in.</p>
<p>“Wanted this so much.” Andrew’s pained, laughing sigh feathered in his ear. “For so long.”</p>
<p>Steven was euphoric; savoured Andrew’s faint baritone curse thrumming right under his ribs, thundering with his heartbeat. He rocked deeper; gasped faintly when Andrew clenched, felt him fevered from the inside—all soaked and silk and Steven knew in a single vicious stab of clarity, what he wanted.</p>
<p>Just one less thing to pray for.</p>
<p> </p>
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